


begging you to be my escape

by AshSPN



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (thanks to Dean's fucked up mind), Brain injury due to overdose, Cravings due to addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Mentions of Coma, Overdosing, Relapsing, Struggle with Addictions, Struggle with Overcoming Addictions, small mentions of violence and blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshSPN/pseuds/AshSPN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean realizes belatedly that the pretty brunette male was holding something out towards him. A glance down shows Dean that they were tissues. He stares at them for a moment before looking up at the male’s face again, noting that there’s an expectant look there.</p><p>Filled for prompt on Tumblr: ambrollins and #27 meeting at a support group au please?</p>
            </blockquote>





	begging you to be my escape

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I just finished this piece and I thought I would post it. Please, please, please read ALL of the additional tags before continuing on to the story. This piece is a bit darker, with a lot of mentions of addictions and overcoming it. There are also some major (but temporary) injuries. Even so, if you guys do continue to read on, I hope you enjoy!

Dean is laughing at the pure irony of all of this, honestly. He ended up going from being surrounded by one group of problematic junkies to being surrounded by another group of problematic junkies, the only difference being the other group of junkies actually seemed pretty happy where as this group was just doing their best to get by. The last week and a half had been nothing short of complete hell.

It had all started that last Sunday, after a heavy night of partying with the wrong crowd, Dean had ended up at home when his mind had taken a turn for the worse. His roommate and his best friend, Roman, had already gone off to work for the day when Dean stumbles through the door of their apartment. Dean remembers going to the bathroom and taking one look at himself in the mirror, but that’s all it took to make that nice buzz he had turn into depressed hatred towards himself.

He had told himself plenty of times before that Roman could do a lot better than him; not that they were dating, but he could do a lot better best friend wise, roommate wise. Dean barely brought home enough to pay his half of the rent – sometimes, he doesn’t even pay his half – but Roman is always right there to pick him back up when Dean nearly falls too far. Roman deserved a lot better than a useless druggie as a roommate, but Dean knew Roman would never make Dean leave. Dean thinks that thought is what makes him stumble from the bathroom to his bedroom.

He remembers searching for less than ten seconds before finding what he had been looking for. It was just a small container of heroin, already in liquid form. He told Roman that he would stop a month ago. He had decided that what Roman didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Dean sits down on his bedroom floor now, though, and finds one of his needles. You guys can potentially guess the rest.

He apparently did too much, his depressed state leading him to wanting to do nothing more than take his own life. He doesn’t know how long he was laying there before Roman comes in from work and finds him. He doesn’t know how long it takes for the ambulance to get there. He does know that he dies twice on the way to the hospital, was dead for four minutes the first time and three the second. The EMTs didn’t think his brain would survive it. He’s diagnosed into a coma for three days before he wakes up on Wednesday afternoon, confused and terrified.

He can’t speak well and he doesn’t understand why he’s there, or what’s going on exactly. He doesn’t calm down from his shouting and thrashing until Roman is rushing in – still in work clothes, pale in the face – and moving to his side. Roman is the one who explains everything that happened. Knowing makes Dean want to fight everything that much harder.

It’s a week later, and Dean… he’s lucky. He gets over what was deemed the worst of the side effects of a coma within five days. He’s cleared and released the day he demands to be let out, after he passes the necessary tests, but kind of regrets wanting out so early. Because while he can walk and he can comprehend, he is but a shadow of what he used to be.

Before all of this, Dean had been loud. He had been cocky. He had been the type of guy you saw roaming the streets at night with a friend or two, singing out at the top of his lungs and dancing to his own music. He was the kind of guy who never backed down from a challenge and would push and push until something broke. He could sweet talk his way into anyone’s pants, could charm his way out of every situation. He used to be something that everyone envied. Now he doesn’t even know how to speak properly.

But somehow, even though Dean was one of the biggest douchebags to grace planet Earth, he had managed to get a friend like Roman. The kind of friend who picked you up from the hospital, walked you out to the car, and punched you _right in the face for being a fucking_ idiot. Seriously, Dean was almost certain that Roman had broken his nose. Roman had been pissed and frustrated, shouting at Dean through building tears that he was to _never do that shit again;_ that Dean deserved better; that Dean was worth more than what those drugs made him. Dean was half tempted to believe him. The last thing Roman had said before he had gone silent in his tears was that Dean needed help this time. Real help.

Dean, being difficult as always, flat-out refuses to go into a rehab center. He didn’t want to be in that kind of place. He had seen so many people go into those places and come out just as bad as they went in. He didn’t want to add another bill to the growing list he had made for him and Roman already. A support group, though… That was as far as Dean was willing to go.

Despite the week and a half spent in the hospital, Dean is still dealing with the withdrawals of his heavy drugs. Since he had been using so often – daily, sometimes multiple times a day – his body still remembers. Since he had been so… so _focused_ on getting better from his brain injury that he hadn’t had time to think about it. When he hadn’t been focused on getting better, he had been in a _fucking coma_. He’s allowed to deal with his withdrawals still. But it’s not so much _dealing_ as it is _suffering._

His whole body is tremoring; his skin cold and clammy despite the fact that he was wrapped in an oversized hoodie that his arms are pulled into the body of, the sleeves hanging loosely to the sides. The hood is pulled over his head, covering his face, because he doesn’t want to see who’s looking at him and who’s looking _like_ him. He doesn’t want to see what he must look like to everyone else. He hasn’t looked in a mirror since that Sunday morning. He knows he probably looks like shit, though. He feels pale and shaky, and he knows he has a plaster on his nose and both of his eyes are black – thanks for that, Ro.

He wheezes softly as he forces back the cough that scratches at his throat, demanding to be let out. He hadn’t had a smoke since Sunday either. Roman was having no more of Dean’s habits. Roman hadn’t looked at him the same way since Dean woke up. There was so much fear in the Samoan’s eyes now. One night, when he thought Dean had been sleeping, he put a hand on his cheek and told him never to scare him like that again. That he didn’t want to find Dean dead somewhere, because Dean was worth more. Dean almost believes him.

Despite his best efforts, the cough escapes Dean’s throat with a crackling thunder, bringing a crowd with it. He coughs loudly and forcefully for a good ten seconds, the pain bringing tears to his ears and a pounding to his head. He only just manages to get his arm in his sleeve and his sleeve to his mouth before he’s spraying blood onto the cloth. He stares at it for a moment, before he’s just wiping it onto the black jeans he was wearing and pulling his arm back to his torso.

He has a feeling everyone is looking at him now and he hates it almost as much as he hates how the chairs are formed in a stereotypical circle, so your back is never to the group. It’s going to be his second meeting, his first having been that Monday when his speech was worse than it still was now. He bows his head further down, his chin almost touching his chest now. He still feels the burning of their gazes and he’s scratching at his ribs, gripping at the fabric of his shirt.

He doesn’t hear footsteps coming towards him and he doesn’t notice someone is standing in front of him until they tap his shoulder. He jerks out of defensive instinct, shying away from the touch before looking up to see who had touched him. He’s pleasantly surprised, to put it lightly. The male standing in front of him was cute – hell, Dean might even go as far as to say that he’s _pretty_. You could tell he had similar problems as Dean by the thinness of his face and the dark bags under his eyes, but both flaws were overlooked in favor of his better features. His eyes were brown and warm, brighter than Dean imagines his own are, and his skin is tanned. He is almost sickly thin, Dean has to admit, but he can see muscles under his skin, which Dean notes isn’t clammy like Dean’s. He has dark brunette hair that is pulled into a bun on the top of his head, looking like it would reach well past his shoulders if it was let down.

Dean realizes belatedly that the pretty brunette male was holding something out towards him. A glance down shows Dean that they were tissues. He stares at them for a moment before looking up at the male’s face again, noting that there’s an expectant look there. He must have said something. Dean stares at him with wide eyes, trying to get his mouth to work so he can speak, his ears that have been buzzing were clearing enough that Dean could hear what was happening in the room now. His mouth finally opens, the male’s eyebrows raising expectantly, but Dean’s lips only open and close several times, no words coming out.

Something like realization crosses the pretty boy’s face. “Oh shit, can you not hear me?” he asks, his voice slightly fuzzy in Dean’s brain now, but his voice is still nice. Dean likes it. “Shit. Fuck. Um.” He starts motioning and trying to sign along with what he starts saying. “I saw,” he is saying, pointing to himself then his eye, “you coughing,” points to Dean, then mimicking coughing, “Brought tissues,” waving the tissues some, “Are you okay?” He struggles with this portion, trying to do what Dean believes are the letters, pointing at Dean for ‘you’ again. Dean feels a smile pulling at his lips.

“I can,” is what Dean manages to say, his voice sounding odd to his own ears. It was progress though; his brain was pretty fucked up. The pretty boy looks confused. “I can,” Dean repeats, his mouth struggling to say ‘hear’ so he points at his ears, still smiling at the pretty boy. More realization passes pretty boy’s face, his cheeks tinting pink. “Sorry.”

“I… It’s okay,” He allows as Dean shakes his arms into his sleeves again, reaching out to take the tissues the male had brought. “I feel like I just embarrassed myself.” Dean smiles wider at that, focusing on his pretty face a little bit more. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies, nodding. “I…” he struggles for a moment, “can’t.” He points at his lips, moving his hand from his lips and spreading his fingers, shrugging.

The pretty boy watches him for a moment before sitting down next to Dean slowly. “Does it have to do with why you’re here?” he asks Dean, who nods. “Oh. Is it going to get better?” Dean nods again, then hesitates and shrugs. “I’m sure it’ll get better,” the male decides to say now, smiling, his eyes studying Dean’s face. “How’d you get those shiners?” He asks, motioning to Dean’s eyes. Dean gives a sheepish smile and a silent shrug. It’s silent for a good minute before the male introduces himself without prompting. “I’m Seth.”

Seth. Dean likes that name. He rolls it around in his head some, forming his tongue and lips around it without making a sound. “Set,” he tries, his tongue clocking out at the last moment, going like lead in his mouth. He makes an aggravated noise, scowling at himself.

“Close enough,” Seth assures, a smile on his lips as those warm brown eyes look at Dean. Dean doesn’t deserve it, but he’s too selfish to ruin something before it even starts. “How about you? What’s your name?”

“Dean,” he manages, smiling when it all comes out, smoother than anything else had. Seth does just like Dean had, testing Dean’s name without uttering a single thing. He nods after a moment, “Why… are you…?” Dean waves his hand, the rest of his sentence gone. He can say all of his letters, which is why he liked the words that sounded just like them. He can say his name. He can say his days and months. He can say his numbers. Stringing a ton of words together though, verbally? A bit harder.

Seth gives a slightly shut down smile. “Same reason everyone else is, right?” he murmurs and Dean supposed he has a point. “I… I wanted to talk to you on Monday,” he tells Dean, who listens. “But Truth… He said that you needed some time to just… realize where you were. I didn’t realize that he meant, but I do now. Is this only your second meeting?

Dean nods, trying his best to think back to the Monday meeting. He had been so out of his mind during that time, not even focusing on who was around him, wanting nothing more than to set out of the room and run to Canada or something.

“Well, I hope that you like it,” Seth tells him kindly. Dean doesn’t deserve that either, but he looks at Seth and smiles. And the thing is, he _wants_ to say more, but the speaker is starting the meeting. That’s all it takes for Dean to zone out once more, because he truly hated these things. You go through the announcements, you go through some weird prayer that Dean didn’t like to hear, and then you get to that part where people are standing up and introducing themselves. Dean had been exempt the first time around since he couldn’t speak well. This time, however, Seth is nudging him.

Dean looks up to see the speaker, a dark skinned male with a slightly crazy look in his eyes, looking expectantly at him. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asks Dean honestly. Dean can do nothing but nod slowly, his eyes wide again. “I know your road to recovery is a bit harder than some others, but I think it would really help if you actually tried to pay attention to what is being said during these meetings. Your partner thought that it would be best if I had you introduce yourself today. He thinks it would help with your speech.”

His… partner? He must have been talking about Ro, but that isn’t what makes Dean furrow his brow. What makes him furrow his brow is the fact that he didn’t _want_ to introduce himself. He had enough trouble talking to _one person_. Why would he try to talk to a room where they would all just get confused?

“Dean, this is your first step to recovery. You have to admit that you have a problem before you can start to fix your problem. Please, stand up and introduce yourself,” Truth (Dean places the name Seth said earlier to this man; it seemed to fit) requests, kind but firm.

Dean hesitates, before forcing himself up shakily. His right foot felt numb and heavy, causing him to stand awkwardly. He clears his aching throat. “Uh…” he starts intelligently. “Hi. I’m Dean. I-I’m an…” he trails off from the word, his mouth working over it, but his pride refusing to let him say it. He’s not an addict. He could stop anytime he wanted… Isn’t that what he just kept telling himself what he kept telling Roman when Roman screamed at him to grow up and realize how bad his addiction was?

“You’re an…?” Truth presses, trying to get Dean to say it. Maybe he think it’s Dean’s brain and not his pride that’s making this so hard. Dean’s lips form over the word and it burns his tongue, burns his pride. It burns his very being.

“Addict,” Dean finally manages. “I’m an addict.” The repetition of the words cause a sinking feeling low in his gut. “I… 10 years… 11? 12…?” He tries to focus, tries to remember. He can’t. “OD. Co-Coma…?” He rubs his head, which aches, realizing just how much he’s allowing out. “Damage,” He adds, an afterthought, pointing to his hand. A glance around shows either pitying looks or confused looks. Dean doesn’t like it

“In case anyone is confused,” Truth is speaking, “Dean is one of our miracle cases. He ended up in the hospital just a few doors down and in a coma for a few days. He’s working on building up his motor and speaking skills again. He is here to get his life on the right path so he doesn’t have to go through it again.”

Dean sits down again, his own words ringing in his ears. _I’m an addict._ Somewhere deep down, he had always known. He knows it was strikingly obvious to everyone around him. To admit it to himself, though, he just realizes that he’s no better than his mother. Than the mother he said he would _never_ become. He’s more like her than he ever realized, it seems.

“Seth?” Truth offers, obviously ready to give Seth the floor. Dean is thankful for it, ready for something to distract his mind. Dean focuses solely on the pretty male as he stands from his seat, obviously apprehensive about it.

“Hi. My name is Seth. I’m an addict.” Seth clears his throat. “I’ve been clean for two months now. It’s… Look, I won’t lie to you, it’s hard, getting this far. But I’m proud of myself. I was an addict for… 7 years. I had no intentions of stopping until my boss saw me buying and told me I either stop or I was fired. I-I’m glad I was able to recognize my job is more important than my fix.”

“You’ve come a very long way, Seth,” Truth tells him, his voice earnest and Dean can understand why people would keep coming back to this meeting. Seth is nodding and sitting down again, a flush of pride in his cheeks, unless Dean’s eyes were just playing tricks on him. He continues to watch Seth curiously for another minute, but ends up zoning out and looking away when someone else starts talking.

The meeting ends much faster than Dean thought it would, but he supposes not sitting along really helps. While everyone else seems to be standing and moving, Dean is craning his head to look at the door, knowing that at any moment Roman would be coming through. Seth stays sitting, just like Dean, but he shifts in the chair beside Dean. Dean could already tell he was going to try and talk.

He wasn’t proven wrong. Within the minute, when the silence was nearly unbearable and Seth’s gaze is still piercing into him, the pretty boy is finally asking, “You have someone who’s picking you up?” Dean doesn’t hesitate before nodding. Seth bites at his nail, looking at the door as well now. “Your… partner?” There’s something weird in Seth’s voice now. It’s curiosity mixed with something Dean can’t distinguish.

Dean’s trying to work out the words that Roman’s not his partner, he’s his best friend, but he can’t get them out fast enough. All he manages to say is a strained, “he,” before Roman is entering almost silently. Dean breaks himself off when he can’t help but grin. For someone with Ro’s mass, the fact he can move quietly at all is impressive. “Ro,” Dean calls out to him, grinning still, his journey to telling Seth that he and Roman were not, despite apparently popular belief, dating long forgotten.

Roman looks directly at him and there’s a brief flash of relief on his face when he realizes Dean was okay. The relief is only dampened with the protective glint that comes to his gray eyes when they land on where Seth is sitting beside him. Dean can feel Seth tense, probably without even meaning to. Dean likes to call the fear Roman strikes into people _common sense_. “Hey,” Roman is greeting as he comes up to them, putting a hand on Dean’s hood and tugging it down. “What are you doing?”

Dean shrugs, his grin not fading as he looks up at Roman. “Made a friend,” he tells Roman proudly, nodding to Seth. “Set.”

Despite the protective glint that doesn’t fade, Roman offers Seth a hand and Seth quickly shakes it. “Seth,” Seth tells him when Roman’s look seems to question how accurate Dean’s version of his name was. “You must be his partner.”

“Partner?” Roman questions now, sounding extremely amused as he looks at Dean. Dean motions to the crazy-eyed speaker and then his grin turns into a glare. “He assumed we were dating? Hell man, all I said was to make sure your ass actually participated sometimes. Apartment’s too quiet without your big mouth going all the time.” He turns back to Seth. “Not his partner. Basically family, though. I’m Roman. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Uce,” Dean states adoringly, fist-bumping Roman. Roman smiles, ruffling Dean’s hair some after.

“Your head hurt any?” Roman asks, fingers brushing through Dean’s wild locks. Dean doesn’t hesitate in nodding, because every time his body thinks _pain_ , it thinks _pain pills_. Roman had learned that quickly. “Bad?” Roman inquires now, causing Dean to hesitate, but shakes his head. “Alright then. We’ll ice it when we get home where it hurts the worse. Alright?” Dean nods, turning to look at a quiet Seth, who is smiling at the display of friendship.

“Were you the one who…?” Seth asks slowly, trailing off as he looks at Roman, who just jerks a single nod. “You’re handling it well. Like… really well. I’ve seen people who come in and they just make stuff worse. You… You’ve got a calming thing about you though.”

Roman looks pleased to hear this, a small smile on his lips now. “That… means a lot, actually. Considering.” Roman side eyes where Dean is rubbing at the plaster on his nose with an exaggerated pout, staring at his friend. Seth tilts his head with an amused look as he looks between Dean and Roman. Roman just shrugs, not even going to try and incriminate himself. Dean can’t help but grin again.

The meetings that follow this one in particular seem to be so much smoother than that first one Dean had gone to had been. Dean thinks it has something to do with the fact that Seth was sitting with him now. It was like having someone there and knowing he wasn’t alone – despite the fact that he was in a room filled with people – really helped get through this actually extremely depressing time.

With time, his head was even getting a bit better. His ears didn’t buzz as much and he actually focused on some of the stories that were told during the speech meetings, which were always held on Fridays. He listened to the stories that the other addicts tell and he feels his skin crawl; feels his cravings start kicking in as the tears flow from other people who could relate to the stories being told. He tells Ro that day that he doesn’t like speech meetings and Ro has to sit there with Dean and Seth for several minutes afterwards because Dean’s shaking too badly to stand.

Seth hadn’t been lying when he said that it was hard, staying away from the drugs that had become a part of your daily routine. You wake up and you want to use. You eat breakfast and you want to use. You watch TV and you want to use. You go through your schedule and your body is _begging you to use_. You’re bored, you’re hungry, you’re stressed, you’re tired, you’re in pain… It’s like every single thing causes you resort to wanting to use. Dean had never noticed just how often he used until now when he knows he couldn’t.

When Roman finds Dean in the kitchen surrounded by smashed plates and covered in his own blood after he comes home from work one day, he decides it would be better to keep someone with Dean at all times. (While Roman doesn’t ask, Dean had only smashed the plates because he could see his distorted reflection in them and he hated it.) Roman ends up talking to Truth about it after the Monday meeting, obviously wondering if there was anything that he can recommend. Truth is talking low, but he’s looking at Roman with good meaning in his eyes. Roman glances back at where Dean is sitting with Seth once, Seth’s fingers gently touching where the bandages Dean wore on his hands ended while they waited to keep the tension out of Dean’s body.

The day Seth officially moves into their apartment is that Thursday, after they all had this big discussion – they being Roman, Dean, Seth, and Truth – about how this would work out. As it goes, Seth had been switched over to work at home when he proved to have too many issues with his cravings during the first month. He has a laptop he works on throughout the day, but he would be able to be there with Dean in case anything went wrong again. Roman didn’t have any better options, but Seth reminds him too much of Dean for him to be able to turn him down when he had apparently been staying either in rooms provided by the company who runs the meetings or in motels.

Their first night together was uneventful and their first morning together proved to be the same. During the speech meeting, Dean gets shaky again, but Seth’s fingertips drag across the skin of Dean’s forearm after he pulls up his hoodie sleeves some. They move to Dean’s chin, slowly tracing his jawline and up to his eyelids. Dean closes his eyes and Seth rests his chin onto Dean’s shoulder, softly asking if he was okay, and Dean can only nod.

Roman takes them all out for pizza at a little parlor that night, getting them pitchers of soda and telling Dean he needs to start trying to speak more, or it’s never going to get better. Roman tells Seth they can’t accept Dean not even attempting to finish his sentences anymore. Roman tells Seth they can’t accept nods or simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers anymore. It pisses Dean off, because he knows that Seth would be on Roman’s side, but apparently pissing Dean off is a good thing to do, because he tries to talk when he’s angry and he needs to keep trying.

Their second night together proves to have Dean unable to sleep, ending up getting up and moving to the living room to find Seth still awake as well. They sit up and they watch horror movies, trying their best to keep quiet, but Roman ends up coming out and joining them, grumpy about being woken up but still good company.

Dean finds out that Seth is allergic to cats after Dean played with a stray tom on the fire escape. Dean finds out that Seth is really good at cooking scrambled eggs when Dean and Roman both wake up to breakfast that Seth claims is a thank you. Dean finds out Seth smells like cinnamon and sweat after he takes Dean to a gym his friend owns on a slow Tuesday night when Roman had to work over. Dean finds out he wants to kiss Seth when he watches him and Roman argue about what wings to get for dinner after a speech meeting.

Dean doesn’t know what to do with the last bit of information. He doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he wants to kiss Seth when he can’t even say his name properly. He’s finally managed to start walking right, though, without an awkward stumble to each step because his right foot is heavier. He’s actually managing to string together full sentences now, even if he doesn’t pronounce some of the stuff he wants to say correctly.

One night, when it’s Seth’s turn to go out and pick up the dinner they ordered, Dean and Roman are sitting and watching TV. Dean can’t keep his mind from spilling his secrets anymore. “I wanna kiss Seth.” He’s finally able to say his name right. It had taken two weeks and hours of practicing, with Seth grinning at him the whole time and repeating the _th_ of his name over and over, going into detail on how to do it. Dean had gotten frustrated several times, had quit more times than he wanted to admit but continued to practice in the dark of his room on his own every time. The moment he said Seth’s name right, though, a full _Seth_ passing his lips as he asks for the salt over breakfast, it had been like a wave of light. Dean would never forget the look on Seth’s face; that look of pride that warmed Dean straight down to the core.

Dean’s confession doesn’t seem to come as a shock to the Samoan. Roman just keeps looking at the TV for a while after the words were out. Dean wonders if he even heard him for a while, but finally Roman speaks, only to tell him, “I want to tell you that I don’t think that’s a good idea, but for all I know, it might be.”

It sounds cryptic and Dean doesn’t like it, staring at Roman with a hard gaze, but Roman doesn’t look back at him. Dean’s left staring at him, waiting for an expansion on what Roman thought Dean should do, but it never came. Seth is coming through the door before Dean works up the courage to say anything else.

Roman gets a surprised call the next morning that has him rushing out the door as he’s dressing, telling a bewildered Dean and Seth to behave themselves; saying he’d be back soon, but his parents were in town. Dean had bounced after Roman, crowing that ‘ _he wanted to see Momma too!_ ’ but he could understand why Roman said it wouldn’t be a good idea. Momma didn’t need to see Dean like this, still recovering with a tongue that still turned to lead in his mouth at times.

Seth had gotten Dean back into the apartment with some minor persuasion and plopped him down on the couch before he starts making them breakfast. Dean’s want to kiss the brunette is in the forefront of his mind, despite his best efforts to make himself forget. When Seth comes in and sets a plate of eggs in front of Dean, Dean can’t help but lean forward and press a quick, nervous kiss to Seth’s cheek.

He watches as Seth visibly freezes, brown eyes staring down at the plate of eggs that he had just put on the table. A flaming red blooms across his face within a few heartbeats and he takes a shaky inhale. It’s only after Seth releases the breath does he turn to look at Dean, his face still red. His eyes search Dean’s for a moment and Dean feels his own face burning.

“Sorry,” he offers after a moment, but Seth is just shaking his head, as if to say _it’s okay_. “I… I just really wanted to…” he trails off, feeling like he was ready to swallow his own tongue.

“To…?” Seth prods, just like Roman and Seth had been doing to get Dean to talk more, because they couldn’t let him not finish his sentences anymore. He needed to talk.

Dean flusters for a moment, tilting his head down so he doesn’t have to look in Seth’s eyes. “Kiss you,” he mumbles out the rest, but Seth doesn’t try to make him repeat it. Seth just gently runs his fingertips along Dean’s jaw and up to his eyelids, just like he did in the speech meeting. Dean closes his eyes and breaths in, smelling breakfast and _Seth_ and feeling like everything was okay.

Seth is gently tipping his head back up after Dean’s body was relaxed. Dean opens his eyes blearily, looking at Seth with curiosity etched in his features. Seth is looking back with the same look. “I want to kiss you too,” Seth tells him softly and it makes Dean’s whole body lurch forward suddenly. His lips press quickly to Seth’s, but in the quick second that their lips meet, he feels his beard scrape against his day old whiskers and feels his nose bump into Dean’s. Most importantly, he feels Seth’s soft lips under his own.

It happened so fast, but it makes Dean’s mind reel. He was far from being a virgin, but all of this… It was like he was experiencing it for the first time all over again. Seth didn’t seem too far behind. He’s moving his fingers to his own lips, like he wasn’t sure if it really just happened, before he’s gently touching Dean’s. Dean puckers his lips against Seth’s fingers, pressing a kiss to them as well, to the fingertips that can calm him better than any words could.

“Okay,” is what Seth says, simply, like that was all that needed to be said. He presses a light kiss to Dean’s forehead and goes back to the kitchen to grab his own plate of eggs, but comes back to join Dean on the couch so they can watch a movie.

“Okay,” Dean whispers to himself afterwards, before pulling his plate to him and beginning to eat while Deep Blue Sea rolls across their television screen.

He doesn’t know if he really… expects anything to change, but when it doesn’t, it surprises him, so maybe he _had_ been expecting some change. Seth still sleeps on the couch, Dean still sleeps in his bed, Roman and Seth still push Dean to recover, and it’s five months after his OD that he actually starts feeling like he did before. Seth has a coin that states _6 months sober_ and Dean has one that states _1 month sober_ because there’s not another milestone until 6 months (but Seth reminds him daily that he’s almost there) and he rolls this little coin in his fingers to remember that this was for the better, even when the cravings make him feel like he’s dying.

So he wakes up one morning about 5 months after the incident to the smell of Seth cooking in the kitchen and he could hear Roman coming in the apartment door, the scent of dryer sheets coming with him and mixing with the smell of breakfast, letting Dean know he had done the laundry. Dean lays there in complete silence as his body slowly pulls from slumber, but his mouth is more awake than he is. He’s belting out the lyrics to _Island in the Sun_ by Weezer without warning into the quiet morning atmosphere. It’s horrible, off-key, and slurred, but it makes him feel good. He hears the laundry basket drop and hears Roman stumble over probably nothing other than his own two feet, before his bedroom door is opening and he’s looking in at Dean like his singing was the best surprise he’s ever gotten.

One night, seven months into Dean’s sobriety and nine months into Seth’s (both of them have _6 months sober_ coins now. They spin on tables during particularly hard cravings and jokingly call them best friend charms because they match), Dean hears a knock on their front door. They aren’t quiet knocks, but loud pounding knocks at 3 in the morning that sound familiar when knocks shouldn’t sound familiar at all. He’s out of bed immediately nonetheless and enters the living room at the same time he hears Roman’s bedroom door opens. Seth is already up, sporting a bat, prepared to swing if whoever’s at the door proves to be a threat.

“Mox,” comes a thick voice, pleading. “Mox, please, open up.” The voice rattles his insides. Dean is immediately shaking, he can’t do anything but stare at the door. “Mox, I need help. I need _help_.”

“Dean, don’t-“ is what Dean hears from Roman before Dean is bolting to the door and throwing it open, because he needs _help_. His Sami needs his help and he can’t leave him out there. He’s pulling Sami in before Roman can even move another step. Sami’s covered in blood and pale and he’s looking at Dean like he’s the only person he could ever count on. His pupils are weird, one slightly larger than the other, but both of them nearly pinpoints.

“Mox, please,” Sami’s begging, like Dean’s supposed to know what he needs, when all Dean sees is a needle still in his arm and a band still tied.

“Ro-“ Dean croaks, his hands shaking, his body craving, his mind in frazzles. “Ro, call the hospital.” But Ro was already on the phone, and Seth is pulling Dean back because Dean hadn’t realized he was getting closer to his friend, eyes on the needle, because there might be _some left_.

“Don’t,” Seth is whispering to him, his face pressing into Dean’s neck as he tugs him back against him. Dean is shuddering at the feeling, but he can’t tell the different with the way his body shakes with yearning for that fix. “You’re doing so good, Dean, don’t do it.”

“Mox,” Sami’s voice whimpers, like that’s the only word he knows. There had been so many times before when they had gotten to that state. Where their names were all that they could remember. The logical part of Dean didn’t want to get back to that; the cravings told him he had never wanted anything more in his life.

“We’re gonna get you help, Sami,” Dean promises, but his voice sounds hollow. “You’re not gonna end up like I did. You’re gonna be okay.”

Sami ends up in a rehab because the meetings weren’t enough, but he was getting help and that’s all that mattered to Dean. He wrings his hands together every night, contemplating praying, if only for Sami’s sake, and it’s the night after Sami’s weekly call that Seth kisses Dean.

His lips are slightly chapped and his beard is thicker than it was last time. Dean had shaved that morning, so his cheeks were smooth when Seth cups his face and presses their lips together. It lasts three seconds, Dean could look back and remember each of them. Seth pulls back after, but presses their foreheads together and promises Dean it would be okay. Dean believes him, because Seth had never lied before.

Seth ends up looking full and healthy after being with them for seven months. The light in his eyes is brighter and his cheekbones aren’t as sharp. He spends most of the time he isn’t doing work or in meetings working out. Dean joins him more often than not, Roman ends up tagging along a few times as well. Seth is a fucking _beauty_ and the more Dean watches him work out, the more he realizes he wants to do a lot more than kiss him now.

It’s not like he hadn’t been with a guy before, because he had. Sami was just one example of the many guys that he had actually been with. Since his OD, his libido had just been the least of his concerns. Now, though, seeing Seth lying on the ground with his hair pulled up into a bun, his shirt off and entire body slick with sweat… Dean _wants_.

Dean isn’t entirely sure what he himself looks like. He still tries to avoid looking in the mirror more than he has to. He remembers nothing more than the way his body looked when he was using. The way his ribs showed and the way his skin was pale and tight. He didn’t want to see if anything’s changed because he’s scared he hasn’t changed at all.

Dean finds a job with the help of Truth when he’s been clean for 9 months, Seth 11, almost a year, Roman’s planning something for it to celebrate. He’s working at a car garage and he makes good money that actually gives them extra money to treat themselves with. It’s tiring, but it gives Dean something to do besides sit at home all day.

When Seth reaches a year sober, they have cake and balloons and Dean leads them into a loud song of celebration. Seth kisses him in front of Roman, with cake icing still on his lips and his _1 year sober_ coin still in hand, pressed against Dean’s neck where Seth’s palm had landed. Dean goes back later and tries to figure out how long the kiss had been, but everything gets blurry when he remembers Seth’s tongue against his lips. They only break away when Roman rubs icing on their cheeks. Dean and Seth end up falling asleep together that night, on the couch, watching a bad B-list movie. Dean is woken up by Roman around three-thirty in the morning, telling Dean he’s going to kill his neck if he doesn’t go lay in his own bed. Seth huffs slightly, peeking out from where he’s slumped against Dean to glare at Roman for waking them up.

“You can join him for all I care. His bed can hold two,” Roman grumbles out at him, but he’s pulling Dean up from the couch and ruffling his hair.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Seth asks, already pushing a hand through his tangled hair, grabbing a hair tie from the coffee table and pulling his brunette locks into a messy bun.

Dean is shaking his head, already moving to pull Seth up from the couch. “Nah, man, ‘course not. You’re always welcomed in my bed.” Dean gives him a lazy smile that Seth returns before leaning in. Their lips connect in a gentle kiss, their noses bumping together in their sleepy stupors when they both try to tilt to make it better. Dean lets out a soft chuckle and pulls away, hearing Roman’s bedroom door close with a grumble from the Samoan-Italian.

Dean leads Seth to his room by the hand and Seth is stretching slowly as he plays with his hair, tightening the bun. Dean is just glad they had changed into their pajamas before they started watching movies last night. It would have been awkward changing in front of Seth when Dean didn’t even want to look at himself.

Dean pulls back his blanket and flops onto the bed, laughing when Seth does the same thing, propping his head up to look at Dean. He pulls the covers up to their chests, then just… _smiles_ at Seth. They had come so far. They had come so far from their addictions. Dean in particular. He could even speak now. Full sentences.

“I don’t know if I’m so tired anymore or not,” Seth is telling him, his fingers splaying across Dean’s chest, smiling softly at him in the room that’s only lit by moonlight. Dean studies him for a moment, his lips quirking up into a small smirk, his hand covering Seth’s on his chest.

“No?” Dean challenges, which just makes Seth smile all the more, before he’s rolling so he’s hovering over Dean in one shift, fluid motion. In another movement, he’s settling, a leg on either side of Dean’s waist. “Oh, no, definitely not tired anymore,” Dean’s agreeing, hands settling on Seth’s waist, being sure to grip just on the right side of tight.

“Definitely not,” Seth whispers, leaning down to gently kiss Dean again. This kiss is easier, more coordinated, lasted longer. Their tongues tangle slowly, and Dean doesn’t realize Seth’s hands are up his shirt and tugging up until his fingertips brush against his ribs.

“Whoa, wait,” Dean breathes out in a rush, because he doesn’t want to know. He just doesn’t want to know. “Shirt… it needs to stay on…”

Seth gives a soft chuckle, like he thinks Dean is kidding, until Dean is pushing at his hands and pushing his shirt back down. “Wait… are you serious?” Seth asks softly, pushing himself up to sit, settling on Dean’s thighs. Dean looks away, closing his eyes. “Dean…?”

“I don’t want to see,” Dean murmurs out, shaking his head, but he looks back at Seth and he smiles. He runs his hands up Seth’s sides and he watches the way he presses into Dean’s hands, the way he arches and his hips move, pressing down harder against Dean. “You? You’ve worked damn hard, Seth. For this body…” he tucks his hands under Seth’s shirt, rubbing up bare skin and Seth bites his lip, eyes going half-lidded. “You’ve eaten right and you go to the gym religiously. You’re a year sober. You’re… You’re perfect… You can see it in the way your eyes shine and the way your body moves…” He rocks his hips up once, when it seems like Seth is going to try and move. It makes the brunette hesitate, looking down at Dean again. “I just know I’m not gonna be this perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” Seth whispers, grabbing Dean’s hands and pushing them down some. “You… Have you even looked in the mirror, Dean?” Dean shakes his head and moves his hands back down to Seth’s hips, staring where the sliver of skin showed in the place Seth’s shirt rides up some. “Fuck Dean, you look _so good_ ,” Seth tells him, covering Dean’s hands with his own again, holding them. “Your body is fantastic, but it’s so much more than that. You look… You look healthy, Dean…”

Dean purses his lips, nodding slowly, but he still doesn’t look Seth in the eye. He doesn’t want to see what might be there.

“Hey,” Seth murmurs, “Let’s just sleep, okay?” Dean nods again, finally looking up when Seth starts to move. He settles beside Dean once again. He takes a moment to get comfortable, but when he does, he presses himself against Dean. Dean, in turn, wraps his arms around him. “Night, Dean.”

“Night,” Dean whispers out in return, but he stays awake long after Seth falls asleep.

Sami ends up relapsing two weeks after he leaves the rehab center, 11 months into Dean’s sobriety and 13 into Seth’s. It’s nearly enough to make Dean relapse, because Sami finds him again, because he really doesn’t have anyone else to go to anymore. He finds him when he’s high and his cheeks are flushed but hollow. He looks so sick but Dean thinks he can smell it on him and Dean wants to slit his skin and drink the toxic blood in Sami’s veins.

He asks Dean, “Mox, how’d you do it?” He asks him over and over on their way back to the rehab center, Dean actually allowed to ride with him because no one can hear his thoughts, Ro and Seth there as well because they knew Dean needed support. Dean’s sat next to Sami in the back seat, Roman driving and Seth in the passenger seat. “How’d you get so far? Nearly a year…”

“I died, Sami,” Dean finally states bluntly, agitation high and temper flaring after Sami talks over Ro again, just to repeat the _same fucking question_. “Twice. I died _twice_ and I was two minutes away from _never_ coming back. I had something to stop for.”

Sami’s pinpoint pupils look at him in such _awe_ that it makes Dean’s skin crawls, looking out the window of the car so he doesn’t have to see. It’s not just the awe that gets him, it’s the way Sami looked so carefree when he was high. Dean just told him – the man that used to be his best friend, his right hand, the only one he thought he would ever need – that he had died twice, and it’s like Dean had told him there was a new roller coaster at Coney Island. “I didn’t know you…” is what Sami manages to get out, but he trails off, his fucked up mind trying to comprehend.

“I did. And if it wasn’t for Roman, I wouldn’t be here. So show some fucking respect. We’re trying to help you so you don’t fucking die.”

It was harsh and blunt, but Sami goes quiet. The only thing he does to let Dean know he’s not passed out in the seat next to him is grab his hand and hold it. Dean grips it back, because at that time, it felt like the only thing that could ground him. Seth and Roman both help Dean through the cravings when they’re back in the apartment and when his mind is still plagued with how much he wants to achieve the same high Sami had.

When Dean hits his one year mark, there’s a big celebration for him as well. There’s cake and balloons, and he gets a call from Sami, who sounds sick and tired, but he tells Dean he’s going to do it this time, and he expects a big party too when he gets to the one year mark. “I know they probably don’t like me, Mox, but they don’t have to be there. If you were there, it would be enough.” Dean remembers laughing and forcing back tears, because he wished he could help Sami the way Dean found help in Roman, but he couldn’t risk himself like that. He just has a feeling Sami would never make it there. For as similar as they were, Dean didn’t stop until he nearly lost everything, and if Sami got to that point, there would be no Ro around to help him in time.

While Dean was still emotional and pliant, after Sami has to hang up when neither of them want to because they’re both scared of what happens next, Seth and Roman are both moving him into Roman’s room, where there’s a full body mirror set up. Dean has a feeling where this was going and he’s already fighting their hands.

“No,” Dean states dully and repeatedly, as his eyes look anywhere but the mirror. “No. No, Seth, _no_.”

“You need to see,” Seth tells him, cupping his face and making him look him in the eye. “You need to see that you’re not the you that you were last year. You’re better. You’re so much better. You’re perfect.”

“No,” Dean tells him again, but it’s softer this time. “Seth, I can’t do this.”

“You remember when we met?” Seth questions now, his voice dropping lower, “And you were all wrapped in that big hoodie and probably feeling like you were dying?” Dean nods, because he couldn’t forget. “I told you I had wanted to say something to you that Monday during your first meeting, but I didn’t. But I… I just remember looking at you and feeling like I needed… I needed to do something. Because you looked so sick and so defeated, like you were ready to give up before you even began and…” He rests their foreheads together. “But I realized you’re the strongest man I have ever met when I started talking to you. You went from barely being able to speak to… to this, Dean. And I want you to see how strong you are now. I need you to see what I see. What we all see.”

Dean stares at him, searching his eyes, trying to find something to say to decline, but he… he can’t. He just can’t, no matter how fast his heart beats in terror. “Okay,” he whispers, finally agreeing, and Roman is stepping to the side as Seth leads Dean in front of the mirror.

“We have to take your shirt off,” Seth is whispering to him, but Dean doesn’t say anything in return, because if he does, it would be refusal. He can’t refuse, though, not when the look in Seth’s eyes is so meaningful. He needs to do this.

His shirt comes off slowly, Seth’s hands pulling it up and Dean’s arms refusing to move up to help at first. When the shirt is finally being pulled over his head, he clenches his eyes closed, because no matter if he needs to see himself or not, he’s afraid.

“Open your eyes, Dean,” Seth whispers, his voice so close to pleading that it makes Dean’s chest ache. Dean hears his pulse in his ears for three beats before he opens his eyes, his breath immediately being taken away.

His body… He didn’t even believe it was his. He wasn’t as toned as Seth, no, but he wasn’t… He wasn’t just miles of stretched tight skin over bones anymore. His ribs weren’t protruding and his skin wasn’t a sickly pale. It was still pale, but it had _life_ to it. There was _life_ to _him_. Everything that had been taken away by the drugs was coming back. His body, his skin, his _life_ … And he’s so focused on his body, on not believing it was his, that when his eyes finally find the face – _his face_ – he’s beyond shocked.

His cheeks are flushed with happiness he hadn’t even noticed he was feeling, his eyes still rimmed red from forcing back tears when he was on the phone with Sami but they were _alive_ ; his eyes were bright and alive instead of hollow and dead like they were a year ago. He was… He was _alive_. He was _healthy_.

“I…” He breaths out, but he’s not exactly sure what to say, moving his hands to touch his ribs, to feel to make sure that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“This is you, Dean,” Seth whispers, wrapping his arms around Dean’s middle now, pressing himself against his back and kissing his shoulder. “This is what a year can do.”

When they go to sleep that night, Dean still has his shirt off, and Seth spends just the right amount of time paying attention to the exposed skin. His fingers press into Dean’s muscles and he sucks hickeys onto his throat and collarbones, leaving Dean feeling frustrated and overheated but more than happy to return the favor. They only manage to stop when they both move at an ill time and Dean ends up with Seth’s chin in his eye. They can’t stop laughing for ten minutes, but they manage to sleep afterwards, wrapped tightly together with Seth’s fingers tracing patterns on Dean’s bare stomach.

They have their first fight thirteen months into Dean’s sobriety and fifteen into Seth’s. They wear their _1 year sober_ coins on chains around their neck to remind themselves of how far they’ve come. Dean holds Seth’s hand in public and kisses his cheek when the other least expects it. Sami had ended up checking himself out of rehab and had gone MIA. Dean hadn’t heard from him in a week and he couldn’t sleep not knowing where he was; not knowing he was okay. Dean jitters and nearly kills himself with a car at the garage so he goes home early and has to explain to Seth why he’s home. Seth tells him he needs to stop worrying about Sami, because Sami was only going to keep causing him trouble, and Dean gets angry. He doesn’t remember when they start shouting, but soon, they’re in each other’s faces and Roman is bursting through the door, separating them with a loud voice of his own. Seth ends up leaving, with a spit out sentence composed of the words _“I don’t have to deal with this_.” Dean watches him leave and feels satisfied until the anger dies away, then he’s just as worried about Seth as he is about Sami.

Seth ends up relapsing when he’s gone. He’s only gone for 8 hours, comes back past two in the morning and comes right into Dean’s room, where Dean is still wide awake and waiting. He can’t tell it immediately, not in the dark. He can feel something’s off though, in the way Seth moves, in the way he strips off his clothes without a single word and then _straddles_ Dean in the same silence.

“Seth,” Dean remembers saying, his voice strange and strangled as two hands push into his hair. “Seth, what the fuck are you doing?” Hips rock down, Seth humming softly, a smile playing at his lips. “Seth, look at me.”

“Been wanting this for so long,” Seth purrs out, his voice so different, so fake, so unwelcoming. His lips find Dean’s neck as he forces his hips down harder. Dean can feel the brunette’s arousal where it’s rubbing against his stomach through Seth’s boxers, but Dean is still working to try and see Seth’s face. “So long, Dean…”

Dean wraps his fingers around Seth’s waist without thinking, rocking his own hips up some almost only out of pure instinct. Seth whimpers and sighs, his teeth sinking into the muscle at Dean’s neck sharply. “Fuck,” Dean breathes, before reminding himself of the task at hand. “Seth, look at me, baby.” Gentle persuasion seems to work and Seth is pulling back to look at Dean, that same flirty smile in place. Their eyes meet and Dean’s blood runs cold. “Are you… Seth, are you high?”

But that’s not a topic that Seth seems to want to talk about, pressing a finger to Dean’s lips in a shushing manner. “Shh… I don’t wanna talk about that right now… I’ve got something else I want…”

The fingers on his other hand are working Dean through his sweatpants now, making Dean’s brain short circuit briefly, but panic still chills his veins. “Seth-Seth stop!” Dean hisses out, hands moving from Seth’s waist to his chest, physically pushing him back and away from him, hopping up the bed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He demands, his voice raising by the moment, “Are you _high_?!”

His voice must have waken Roman up, because the Samoan is in there in moments, hair still sleep-tousled. Seth is still sitting on the bed, his cheeks flushed, still hard in his boxers, but the streetlight outside shows just how inhumanly Seth’s pupils are actually dilated.

“I had a few pills,” Seth finally tells him, his voice confused, like he wasn’t sure why it was such a bad thing. “He said that they were on the house to take the edge off. It’s not a big deal…” He reaches out, almost pathetically as he gives an exaggerated pout. “I really, really want you to touch me, De.”

Dean couldn’t even think, however, much less think about touching him. His cravings have come back with a vengeance as he looks at his rock, his support, his _everything_ in front of him, having collapsed under the weight of want. Seth… Seth had _relapsed_. Fifteen months were _gone_ and Dean knew how this worked. He knew it was just like picking open a scab. Seth was falling back to square one…

“Ro, call Truth,” Dean whispers, looking at where the _1 year sober_ chain still hung around Seth’s neck, mocking Dean. If Seth wasn’t so out of his mind, it would be mocking him too. Dean couldn’t stand it, moving forward. Seth looks hopeful, that flirty smile coming back to his face, but it falls as Dean yanks the thin chain from around Seth’s neck, breaking it just like Seth had gone and _broken everything_.

“Dean?” Seth whispers, looking at the chain and coin in Dean’s hands now, and Dean thinks he sees a sliver of the Seth he knows. Thinks he sees a sliver of the Seth he needs. “No…” the brunette whimpers softly as Dean backs away with the necklace in hand, desperately reaching for it, but not moving; like he knew it didn’t belong to him anymore. “No, Dean, we’ve worked so hard. That’s _mine_.”

“Not anymore,” Dean tells him, hearing Roman in the other room on the phone with Truth, who was always there for them if they needed him, and right now Seth needed him. “This isn’t yours anymore.” He doesn’t think he’s ever going to forget that broken look on Seth’s face.

Seth ends up in the rehab center Sami had been going to. He had checked himself in after Truth told him that being around Dean could potentially cause a domino effect. The terror that crosses Seth’s face as he looks at Dean, like he remembers the Dean he met who was broken and half-dead, makes Dean’s heart clench. Dean stays at home, his focus declining and he ends up losing the job he had, but Mick tells Dean the job’s his whenever he can get back on his feet again. The bed feels too empty and too cold, so more often than not, Dean slept on the couch that smelled faintly like cinnamon. The weight of the coin on his chest felt mocking. Dean’s thirteen months sober and Seth is three days sober. The realization that he loves Seth hits him like a bus, but at the same time it’s like he knew all along. The part that hurts the worse is knowing Seth wasn’t there for Dean to say it too.

Seth comes out of rehab a month later. Ro had gone to pick him up from the center alone, because Dean couldn’t bring himself to move. He’s bitten all of his nails to bloody stumps and wallows in the darkness with that _1 year sober_ coin mocking him the more he looks at it. He hadn’t gotten there alone. He had gotten there with Seth there every step of the way, but now he’s at the top of the mountain where he had seen Seth fall. Dean had contemplated telling him on the phone that he loves him every time Seth calls home, but his tongue turns to lead and he can’t speak all over again. Dean can hear the guilt in Seth’s voice, but Dean doesn’t know how to explain that it isn’t Seth. Dean just doesn’t want to make things worse when Seth’s there and Dean’s here and it had already hurt to be apart.

As he’s waiting in the darkness, he remembers what Truth had said to him at the speech meeting that last Friday. He remembers being pulled aside and Truth told him that Seth needs him. He remembers a warm thumb pressed against his neck where Truth’s hand was on his shoulder and he remembers firm words telling him “ _you can’t give up on him_.” Like he thought it had crossed his mind; like Truth thought he would leave Seth to fend for himself.

When Seth comes through the door, Dean was still in the living room, but the blinds were drawn now, letting in the light from the sun. He stands when the door opens, watches as Seth comes in and takes in the brief moment where Seth looks like Dean had felt thirteen months ago: Pitiful. Dead. Empty. The moment dull brown eyes land on him, though, it’s like Seth completely lights up and there’s life to him that makes Dean’s heart swell and flutter. When Seth drops his bag and dashes the few steps to Dean, it’s in slow motion. Dean can tell you he takes two long steps from the door to the couch, he can tell you there were tears already forming in brown eyes, he can tell you relief was painted on his face.

Seth’s arms wrap around Dean’s neck and Dean wraps his arms around Seth’s waist, holding on for dear life. He clutches and grips, Seth’s face buried into his neck where he lets out this broken sob, this broken apology, this broken plead for forgiveness.

“I fucked up,” Dean can recall him rasping out, his fingers pushing into Dean’s hair and tightening as he hiccups on a harsh sob. “I fucked up so bad and I-I was so scared that… but you didn’t… you’re so strong, Dean. I’m so proud…” Dean’s hands rub up Seth’s back and tangle into his the long locks, turning his head just enough to kiss Seth’s cheek, his temple, the corner of his eye. Seth shakes with another sob, but he pulls back and looks at Dean with _such adoration; such awe_. “I-I don’t deserve you,” he whimpers out, his eyes red, his face already tear stained, sniffling every few moments. It sounds like he’s been building up to saying those words for the month he’s been gone. The fear on his face makes him think Dean’s going to believe it.

“Yes you do.” Dean cups his cheek, shaking his head in declination of Seth’s words. “But it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t,” his thumb stroking his cheek, his free hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face, “because I love you.” The words come out too easily, a peaceful stream that makes his heart hum and his cheeks flush in pride that he was able to finally say it.

It’s like a dimly-lit scene, a romantic layer thickening. Seth’s eyes snap up to Dean’s with this elation making them bright, then they fill with tears again and he ducks his face, removing his hands to wipe furiously at his own tears. “You-… After all of this?” He can’t help but ask through sniffles, risking a look up, brown eyes open, hope, joy, and tears shining in them.

“After all of this,” Dean confirms, helping to wipe at his tears some, pressing their foreheads together. “After everything.”

Seth clenches his eyes shut, trying to put a stop to the tears that just kept flowing. Dean remembers how fragile he was. How fragile his emotions felt. He remembers, and he would never let Seth deal with it alone. “I-I love y-you too,” Seth is able to get out through it all and Dean kisses him, because it had been too long since he had last and it felt like the right thing to do. When Dean takes Seth’s hand, he’s intent on never letting go. Seth needed him and Dean wasn’t going to give up on him. He was going to be with him every step of the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! The ending is kind of... cut off, but I felt it was a good place to end it. I might be adding on to it in another work later on.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are nice.


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